


Resourcefulness

by vanillalime



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fanart, Fanfiction, Gen, Quidditch, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherins Being Slytherins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-10-29 08:10:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20793446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillalime/pseuds/vanillalime
Summary: Harry is sorted into Slytherin house, where he discovers the uniquely unifying power of sports.





	Resourcefulness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevil/gifts).

> Artwork and story created in response to the prompt: "Harry is sorted into Slytherin and has to learn wizarding culture and politics to survive."

  


Resourcefulness

"Not Slytherin. NOT Slytherin."

Unfortunately, the Sorting Hat had a mind of its own, literally.

"Not Slytherin, eh? I know you better than you know yourself, Harry Potter. Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness. It is where you belong."

A single word echoed off the walls of the Great Hall. "SLYTHERIN!"

Harry's stomach plummeted. He opened his eyes, took off the hat, and shakily made his way to the Slytherin house table. There was polite clapping, but the murmurs of surprise throughout the hall threatened to overpower it. As he sat down, Harry managed to steal a glance at Hagrid, and the look of disappointment on his face was unmistakable.

Harry heard someone at his table cough loudly and, looking around, realized it was Draco Malfoy.

"Well, well, well," Malfoy muttered bitterly, looking none too pleased with this turn of events. "Maybe you're made of better stuff than I thought, Potter. But I doubt it."

Harry was dumbstruck, unable to come up with a proper retort. Instead, he simply watched the remainder of the sorting process, sadly observing Ron Weasley taking a seat alongside the other Gryffindors. Ron looked beyond thrilled, and Harry tried to feel happy for him.

As the headmaster gave his welcoming remarks, Harry sighed to himself. It wasn't the start he wanted, but Hogwarts was still Hogwarts. And if he could survive ten years of living with the Dursleys, he should be able to survive seven with the Slytherins.

*~*~*

Harry tried to make the best of things. He thought the Slytherin common room in the dungeons was an interesting place, with more character than Aunt Petunia's sterile living room. And while Malfoy somehow arranged for Harry's bed to be in the coldest, darkest corner of their dormitory, it was still better than a cupboard under the stairs. He liked the Slytherin colors, too—the green matched the color of his eyes.

The other Slytherins didn't seem to know what to make of Harry, so they basically left him to his own devices, which was fine by him. Their cautious ambivalence was an improvement over the Dursleys' outright hostility.

On the other hand, the reaction of Professor Snape, the head of Slytherin house, was a different story. More than once, Harry caught Snape staring him curiously during his Potions class with a crooked half-smile that sent chills down Harry’s spine. Snape reminded him of a spider, as though he was trying to decide what to do with Harry now that he had caught him in his web.

All in all, Harry had the distinct impression that nobody in Slytherin really wanted him in their house, but no one knew quite what to do about it.

*~*~*

In the end, Harry had the hapless Neville Longbottom to thank for improving his lot in life.

It seemed as though Malfoy had decided to redirect the animosity he felt toward Harry onto more acceptable targets, and poor Neville was ripe for his bullying tactics. On their first day of flying lessons, Malfoy stole Neville’s Remembrall and threw the fragile ball high into the air. When Harry saw the despair on Neville’s face, something inside him snapped. Against strict orders from their instructor, he launched himself on his broomstick and made a thrilling, diving catch just before the ball hit the ground.

Harry groaned inwardly as Madam Hooch immediately took fifty points from Slytherin for disobeying her instructions. And while Neville flashed him an appreciative smile, the gratification Harry derived from it was quickly extinguished by Malfoy’s death-glare. Harry was sure he'd be a Slytherin outcast by nightfall.

But all the other first-year Slytherins were awestruck by what Harry had just done, and word of his natural flying talent spread like wildfire. That evening, Marcus Flint approached Harry while he was sitting alone in the common room, trying to complete his homework.

"Ever played a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.

The first step was convincing Professor Snape to make an exception to the rule that first-year students were not allowed to play on their house Quidditch team. As the captain for Slytherin, Flint made a very strong case on Harry’s behalf. Snape seemed thoroughly conflicted, apparently weighing his desire to win against his inclination to withhold from Harry something he obviously wanted. After much cajoling from Flint, however, he finally relented.

"All right, Potter, you can play," he told him sternly. "But if you don’t win our first match for us, the consequences will be dire indeed." Harry got the impression that Snape considered it a winning situation regardless of the match's outcome.

It didn't take long for Harry to discover that he loved the game of Quidditch and everything associated with it. Flying through the air was a transcendental experience, the practices were fun and exciting, and his teammates readily accepted his presence. And he was a good player. Very good.

Slytherin’s first match of the school year was against Gryffindor, and the entire school turned out to watch. Despite Snape’s threat, Harry was more eager than anxious. Motivated by the presence of their exceptional new Seeker, the Slytherins scored goal after goal. Thirty minutes into the match, Harry spotted the Snitch. Racing past the stunned Gryffindor Seeker, Harry went into a nose-dive. As the whistling wind rang in his ears, Harry stretched out his arm and wrapped his fingers tightly around the bright gold ball.

Slytherin had won in a blow-out, the score 230 to 20.

Deafening cheers issued forth from the Slytherin student section. Harry's teammates attempted to lift him up on their shoulders, but they all collapsed into a laughing, happy pile of arms and legs and broomsticks instead. Flint helped him to his feet in time for Harry to see Professor Snape give Professor McGonagall a conciliatory handshake. The wide smile on Snape's face was surprisingly genuine.

Snape then began to make his way over to the team, clearly caught up in the excitement of the moment. As their celebration continued, Harry impulsively decided to take advantage of Snape’s obvious high spirits by asking him for an unusual favor.

And sure enough, the next morning in Potions, Snape informed Ron Weasley that Harry was his new lab partner.


End file.
